


Lessons

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Dom!Steve, Dom/sub, M/M, Punishment, Rough Sex, Smoking, Sub!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:03:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14671656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: Bucky gets caught smoking. That's against the rules.





	Lessons

The city looked small from the balcony. The prospect of being on a seventh-floor apartment had daunted Bucky at first, but three weeks of watching the hazy August sunsets sink below their backdrop of lofty glass buildings and dark blue clouds had convinced him that the anxiety could be ignored, at least until the winter.

He sat back in the metal folding chair, hearing it creak under his weight as he reached for the packet of Marlboro Reds stashed in his inside pocket. He glanced behind him through the glass doors. No Steve. At least not in the kitchen or living room. Bucky chuckled to himself at the reality of the situation, a 100-year-old assassin hiding cigarettes like contraband and fearing a slap on the wrist. It was more than that, that much he knew, but the principle of it was still amusing. He lit the cigarette and stared at the embers with it posted between his fingers. The orange glow cast its amber light against the metal joints, mimicking the sunset on the skyscrapers ahead of him. Smoke burning his lungs and clouding his thoughts was oddly comforting and the droning conversation of the traffic below him fell into the background. It was enough that he did not hear the footsteps behind him until the cigarette had been snatched from his fingers.

“Shit,” he hissed, watching as Steve stubbed out the cigarette on the balcony railing.

“Don’t cuss at me,” Steve frowned, “And don’t act surprised, I’ve told you before.”

  
Bucky held back the smirk forming on his lips and looked down at his lap.

“Give me the packet,” Steve ordered quietly.

Bucky groaned and looked up, pleading with his eyes, well aware of the futility of it.

“Did I mumble?” Steve chuckled, “Lighter too.”

Trying to hide the reluctance on his face, he handed them over, obedience overriding craving.

“Asshole,” he mumbled, frowning to himself in irritation and humiliation.

The words left his mouth too quickly, more a loud thought than anything else. His stomach tightened as he watched the playfulness drain from Steve’s face.

“What’s that?” he asked, tilting Bucky’s chin up, just hard enough for the gesture to seem less than affectionate.

“Nothing,” he muttered.

Steve’s gaze did not shift or waver. The knot in his stomach tightened.

“Look at me in the eyes if you are going to lie to me,” Steve whispered.

As his voice lowered, the world around them seemed to hush too, and suddenly Bucky was as focused as he had ever been in his life. A heady mix of arousal and anxiety crawled through his chest and locked him in place. He kept his eyes low, battling with his instincts.

 “Bucky,” Steve pressed flatly, his grip on his chin tightening a little.

“I back-sassed you,” Bucky breathed, “It won’t happen again.”

Steve smiled, pulling the metal chair forward with Bucky in it.

“I didn’t ask you what you did,” He explained slowly, “I asked you what you said.”

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed, the humiliation tearing him apart and turning him on in equally disabling measures.

“Come on, you heard me,” Bucky groaned, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

Steve sunk down into a squat slowly, eyes now unavoidably level with Bucky’s.

“You can tell me what you said, and stop bratting out, or I can walk you into that apartment and fuck it out of you,” Steve almost growled, his voice dangerously low, “I will enjoy both, so make your choice.”  


The air in Bucky’s lungs seemed to condense instantly. Opening his mouth to speak provided him with no escape, words seeming to stick like thorns in his throat. He squirmed against the heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach and forced a breath.

“I called you an asshole,” He admitted quietly.

“Look. At. Me,” Steve ordered, firmness rising in his tone in a way that made Bucky’s hair stand on end.

“You _know_ I hate that…”

“Stand up,” Steve interrupted.

Bucky obeyed, knocking the chair back in haste.

“Inside.”  


Bucky obeyed again, keeping his head bowed. Steve followed behind. He pulled Bucky’s arms behind his back gently, clasping them at the wrists. It was a hold that Bucky knew he could break free from in a second with a quick twist, but escape was far from his mind. He was tethered by their dynamic, tethered exponentially tighter than he was by Steve’s hands. Steve knew this, and that was part of the thrill. It was _effortless_ dominance.

He guided Bucky into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.

“Sit down,” Steve said calmly, gesturing to the bed.

His expression was ambiguous, unreadable and utterly infuriating.

“How much trouble am I in?” Bucky asked cautiously.

“Oh, only as much as you can handle.”  


A smirk played on the corners of the Captain’s mouth as he pulled his sweater over his head, folding it torturously slowly before taking a step closer.

“Please,” Bucky half begged, closing his eyes.

“Please what?”

“Just…please. I hate not knowing what you’re going to do to me,” Bucky mumbled shyly.

Steve’s smirk broke into a grin and he closed the small space between them, standing between Bucky’s legs. He ran hand back through Bucky’s hair, giving him a moment to enjoy the contact before tugging sharply, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. He leaned in close, close enough that his lips grazed Bucky’s ear. He gasped at the rough treatment.

“I just really want to see,” Steve whispered, “What that mouth can do, besides backchat me.”  


Bucky whined involuntarily, pressing himself forward into Steve’s touch. Steve’s eyes had darkened from a clear blue to something stormier as they drank in the sight of him hungrily. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to align his racing thoughts as waves of anticipation coursed through his body, prickling on his skin like tiny needles.

“Knees,” Steve ordered quietly, stepping back a little and unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other staying tangled in Bucky’s hair.

Bucky watched the arousal play on Steve’s face. He was good at hiding it, able to stay straight faced and cool until the last moment. Eventually he would break, his cheeks would flush and his movements would get urgent and rough. Bucky could see him heating up, count down the minutes until the perfect control Steve seemed to exercise constantly would slip and he would get rougher and darker. Pleasure and punishment would blur and the urge to give himself over completely that Bucky fought until he could no longer would flood him.

Steve pressed Bucky’s mouth open roughly with his thumb, gripping his cheek and tilting his head back.

“What do you want?” Steve asked.

Bucky sifted through his clouded thoughts. A sharp slap stung his cheek. He stifled a moan around Steve’s thumb and squirmed against the tightness of his jeans, pressing his curled toes into the carpet.

“I want to make you feel good,” He gasped.

“Why?”

Bucky growled low in his throat, frustration at his agonising lack of words and his even more painful lack of touch overriding submission in one foul swoop. Another slap shook him from the smog of desperation, bringing with it another bolt of masochistic pleasure that coursed through his body with a voltage that dizzied him.

“Because I’m a slut,” He blurted out, “I’m a slut who doesn’t know how to behave and I need to learn what I’m good for.”

Steve smiled in satisfaction before guiding himself into Bucky’s mouth, pushing into his throat until his eyes streamed down his cheeks. Strong fingers laced into his hair anchored him place as Steve thrusted slowly, pausing occasionally to stroke the tears from Bucky’s cheeks or tighten his fingers in his hair.

“You’re a good boy really,” Steve whispered breathlessly, “You know that.”

Bucky whimpered in response, squeezing his thighs together hopelessly in search of some stimulation.

“Do you deserve that?” Steve chuckled, noticing the movement, “After that behaviour? You think I should let you cum?”  


Bucky nodded as best as he could, shuffling forward eagerly. Steve chuckled again, forcing himself into Bucky’s throat until he choked, holding for a moment, and then stepping back. Bucky gasped as air flooded his lungs. Steve squeezed his cheek affectionately.

“Stand up and strip for me,” Steve directed, “Then bend over that bed.”

Bucky followed, throwing his jeans off as fast as he could without toppling.

“Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” Steve smiled, stroking a line down Bucky’s spine.

He turned him around slowly, following curves of his muscle with his finger, keeping the touch feather-light and teasing. Bucky felt deliciously uncovered and viciously humiliated.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Steve groaned tenderly, pushing Bucky’s hair away from the back of his neck and kissing the exposed skin, “You’re perfect.”  


“Steve, please fuck me. Please, I can’t…”

 

Steve’s grip on Bucky’s hips tightened. He pulled him back sharply, one hand on his throat, the other wrapped around his cock and stroking slowly. Bucky coughed out a moan at the sudden relief, his weakening knees trembling with the rush.

“Bend over,” Steve ordered, “Facing that mirror. I want you to watch yourself getting fucked.”

Bucky leant forward, forearms on the bed. The reflection in front of him was not something he could face. He ducked his head, hair falling forward and covering his eyes.

“Look at yourself. You heard what I said.”  


Bucky lifted his head reluctantly, staring his own reflection in the eyes, raking over its flushed, tear-stained cheeks and blown pupils. He looked a mess. He didn’t mind it. It was the kind of mess that he didn’t want to fix; Steve had put him in that state. He was Steve’s mess.

The click of a lube cap pulled him from his preoccupation. Slick coldness, then fullness. Desperately perfect fullness. Bucky arched his back, gripping the sheets in sweaty fists. The metal arm whirred with the force of it, somewhat drowning out the hoarse moan that he failed to stifle. He closed his eyes as the thrusts sped up, rocking his body and making the bed whine in protest. His whole world seemed to be absorbed in that rhythm.

“You’re going to learn some manners,” Steve growled, punctuated by the slap of skin on skin, “Aren’t you?”

Bucky nodded urgently.

“Yes,” he sobbed out between moans.

Steve’s hands on his hips became bruise-tight, but his thrusts stopped. Bucky pushed back but the Captain anchored him in place.

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir,” Bucky whispered hoarsely.

Steve leaned forward, lips against Bucky’s neck.

“I want to hear you,” He breathed.

“Yes,” Bucky exclaimed, “Yes, sir.”  


Steve pushed in to the hilt in one swift, breath-taking movement. A desperate, keening noise clawed its way out of Bucky’s throat at the sudden and invasive pleasure. His muscles quivered and his skin burned. Pain and pleasure mingled in a way that made Bucky’s autonomy blur. Sweat streamed down his forehead, making his hair stick in messy tresses.

Steve’s hands moved from his hips to the back of his neck, pushing him against the mattress. His thrusts sped up, losing some rhythm but gaining force.

“Steve, Steve, _Steve_ …” Bucky rambled, gripping the edge of the bed until the wood creaked in protest.

“Cum for me,” the Captain ordered breathlessly.

Bucky closed his eyes and let pleasure finally wash over him like a wall of water. He fell apart in a haze of grey vision and shivering thighs. Steve gripped him in place as he came down, before following straight behind him, a tight, winded gasp leaving his lips like a prayer.

There was a lull of calm where they were still, decompressing and unwinding. Steve finally slumped down on the bed next to him, pulling him into a close embrace, mess and all.

“You learn your lesson?” Steve asked, mischief crawling over his tired smile.

Bucky nodded, burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve reached behind them to the nightstand, picking up the packet of confiscated cigarettes. He pulled one out between his teeth, lit it, and took a drag.

“Good,” He grinned.

 

 


End file.
